


as the dust settles (and the colors bloom)

by familyheathen



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Drabble, Infinity War spoilers, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, peter parker dies in infinty war, short fic, the character death takes place before this fic started, this is post infinity war
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-24
Updated: 2019-04-24
Packaged: 2020-01-25 18:08:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18579808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/familyheathen/pseuds/familyheathen
Summary: The last "annoying" question Peter asked Tony plagues his mind one night.





	as the dust settles (and the colors bloom)

Tony Stark didn’t have an answer when Peter Parker asked him his favorite color. 

 

Of course, there’s always the obvious answer.  _ Red. _ Classic. Vibrant. Sexy. But it’s also the color of blood. His dad’s favorite color. His kid’s favorite color. The color of Pepper’s freshly dyed hair. The smell of strawberries and metal. What he saw creeping into his peripheral when he couldn’t stand to see the dust settle. Tony had strong feelings for red. 

 

Yellow. The color of the sun. Sunflowers, and daisies, and all things fragrant. The color that bleeds into the air of flames. The color of Peter’s happy eyes in the daylight. Pepper’s natural hair color. The color that feels akin to the smell of his lover. Pepper’s favorite hue. This one is warm.

 

It could also be green. Fresh cut grass. The color of time. The chlorophyll he used to drink to keep himself alive. His and Peter’s birthstones. The color his hair turned the summer of his sixteenth birthday, when he bleached it and went swimming. The chlorine stayed for days. A sign to proceed, something safe. 

 

And there’s blue. The color of the daytime sky. His lover’s eyes. His second car, powder blue. He got bullied for that car. The color of lightning popping in the sky. Peter’s bed blanket. Peter’s suit. The last t-shirt Peter ever wore. 

 

And purple. God-awful purple. The color of the  _ bastard _ that tried and  _ succeeded _ in destroying his  _ son _ . Destroying himself. The color of the cough syrup he took too much of to sleep at night. The color of his nightmares. 

 

Brown, maybe. Peter’s eyes. Clay of the earth. Settling dust. The color of nature. The most basic color. The unloved color. The color of his morning coffee. His own eyes. The wooden flooring in his house. The same floors he stared at so he wouldn’t have to lose focus at all. 

 

The last color he thought of was black. Cold, joyless. The nullified hollow in his chest. The feeling he had nothing to live for, and the reality he did, but didn’t want to. The color of his bedroom as he drew his curtains closed and flicked the light off. The color he wore the very first August 27th. The color that he sees as he falls asleep at night, gladly allowing the heaviness to overcome him so he could dream. He dreamt of the one in four-hundred-sixteen-million chance that he could have done _something_ , _anything_ , to make. But he didn’t. And he can’t fix it. So he lays dormant in his mind, and in his heart. And he knows there’s no going back. But he can’t let himself die, because there’s always a small _what if_. 

  
  



End file.
